


Press It

by Blondjjong



Series: Caged AU [2]
Category: EXO (Band), SHINee, SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: AU, Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Gun Kink, M/M, Mild Cumplay, Power Play, Rimming, Switching, Violence, nameless OC death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27083836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blondjjong/pseuds/Blondjjong
Summary: Taemin becomes wise to one of Jongin's kinks and decides to indulge him.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Lee Taemin
Series: Caged AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1391260
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

The solid sound of the revolver’s hammer locking into place resounds loudly in Jongin’s ears, as he stands in the hallway of their apartment. It’s a sound he knows well, stopping him in his tracks, and immediately raising the hairs on the back of his neck. It sends an alertness straight up Jongin’s spine in a reaction that is purely instinct based. 

Jongin's dark eyes flit up from the phone in his hands, to where Taemin is standing, filling the door frame of their too small bathroom. The grey and black striped shirt Taemin is wearing clings to his still shower damp skin, blue jeans wrapped tight around slim hips, torn in more places than not, exposing tempting bits of soft, pale, skin to the wandering eye. The look on Taemin’s face is one Jongin knows all too well, though it had never before been directed his way. 

The tension in Taemin's jaw emphasizes the hard line of it, his eyes narrowed with a sharp focus. Taemin’s shoulders are held just a little bit straighter than normal making Taemin seem broader than he actually is. It is cold, it is intimidation in its most well refined form and it is working.

Jongin’s eyes drag down the blue steeled barrel of the revolver held with comfortable familiarity in Taemin’s hand, small fingers curled with years of practice around the worn ivory handle. His gaze runs down the length of Taemin’s forearm, the bone along the expanse of it showing clear in his wrist, disappearing in a subtle lace of veins under fair skin. Jongin’s vision is pulled right up Taemin’s shoulder, up the tense length of Taemin’s neck to meet his steely eyes. 

Jongin knows Taemin well enough to recognize that his body is too lax to be serious, his feet not quite in position to be about to unleash a .45 on him, the way the point of the muzzle to Jongin’s face implies. Taemin though, the thought flits through Jongin’s mind, picking his pulse up in tempo, Taemin has always been unpredictable. It was a large part of why Jongin had resisted his attraction to Taemin for so long, as well part of why having Taemin in his life was so thrilling.

“Tae-”

“Phone.” Taemin’s voice carries no waiver, a well practiced blankness to it as his free hand raises, palm up for the device in Jongin’s hand. Jongin’s mouth snaps shut as he complies without hesitation, placing the black device into Taemin’s waiting palm. 

Jongin flinches the slightest bit as Taemin whips the phone with little force, to skid along the bathroom floor behind him. Jongin doesn’t dare take his eyes off of Taemin’s face, taking the loss of the phone for what it was. The thick heat of Jongin's pulse is caught in his throat, adrenaline picking up as the silence drags between them. 

He feels pinned, the position Taemin has him in bringing back memories. They slide show themselves quickly through Jongin’s mind, echoing back repeatedly to the first time he watched Taemin put someone down for him. The memories thereafter, different times that he’d seen Taemin with his loaded revolver in hand, bleed into themselves as they play through. 

There’s this muddled feeling slowly blooming through Jongin’s body, accompanying the adrenaline rush, a feeling that comes all too often with that calloused, squared jaw look on Taemin’s face. With those pretty little fingers wrapped around Tae’s favourite heirloom.

There’s a crack in the cold look Taemin is putting on, a smug quirk of a smirk at the corner of his lips. The slight turn of expression on his face has Jongin swallowing hard, his mouth suddenly drying in a most inconvenient way. The blond’s eyes drag themselves slow over Jongin’s own body, Jongin far less put together than Taemin is. 

His black hair is still mussed from sleep, shirt lacking altogether, exposing tan skin, and lean muscle to the weight of Taemin’s gaze. Black sweatpants are tied loose around Jongin’s waist, hanging off his hips, held up by the gratuitous swell of his ass, bare feet peeking out the bottom of the black pool of material, where it meets the floor. Taemin's gaze stops shamelessly at Jongin’s pelvis, lingering longer than a moment before returning back up to Jongin’s face.

“You’re getting hard aren’t you?”

Taemin sounds nearly as smug as the look that flits across his face implies, and Jongin instantly knows what this is about. He’d long since forgotten about the moment, it’d been weeks ago, back down by the water, near Jonghyun’s storage business when it had happened. 

Jongin had known they were being followed but Taemin had been the first to react, turning them from one of their usual paths home from the fight ring, back down towards the road of factories that spatter the waterline. Jongin had a retrieval message tapped out and sent to Jonghyun before the sound of the gunshot even had a chance to ring in his ears. 

The guy had been sloppy, alone in his stalking, and hardly worth the short scuffle that broke out between him and Jongin. Taemin ended it, with swift precision and the crack of his revolver. Jongin could still remember clear as day the look painted calm, and calculated over Taemin’s features, as the guy hit the gavel with a heavy thump, and a sickening crack of his skull. Taemin had hollowed his cheeks, pressing the flesh of them lightly between his teeth as he’d waited, listening for more, wary of any back up the guy could have brought along. The black hood of the sweater he wore under his leather jacket, was pulled high on his head, the blond of his hair pushing out the front, messily framing Taemin's face. His eyes were sharp with focus, not even taking note of the way Jongin was watching him.

Jongin’s breathing had come heavy as he’d paused, the adrenaline pulsing through his system, wrapped tight with the heady feeling of arousal, that was brought on by Taemin’s cold display of power. It wasn’t long before Taemin deemed the threat over, still tense as he stepped forward, pulling the leather of his jacket up just long enough to shove the revolver in the back waistband of his jeans. 

With little regard, Taemin had stepped over the body bleeding out between them, bringing himself to Jongin’s side, invading the taller man’s space with an air of self confidence that made their significant height difference seem moot. Jongin’s eyes had never left Taemin, lost in mapping the familiar curve of his lips when he’d realized Taemin was speaking.

“What?”

The word was spat out more harshly than Jongin had intended, his gaze flitting up to meet Taemin’s own. He’d been met with the quirk of an eyebrow at his out of character reaction, Taemin studying him closely a tense moment before he’d breached that last bit of space between them. With practiced familiarity Taemin had pressed his body up against the solid lines of Jongin’s own, amused recognition shone on his face. His fingers walked themselves up the dark material of Jongin’s worn hoodie, eyes dancing as his slim frame pressed against Jongin’s more solid one, muscle memory bringing Jongin's hand up to press against Taemin’s lower back, keeping him close.

“What’s got you worked up?” Taemin’s tone danced as he posed the question, leaning in to brush his lips along Jongin’s jawline, already working on coaxing a reply from him.

“I just-” The words had caught on Jongin’s tongue, having never before considered voicing the feeling. 

This hadn’t been the first time Jongin had felt it. No, the thoughts that had flitted through his mind when he was chasing a quick orgasm, alone with his hand around his dick, and his imagination guiding him, had more than solidified that there was some kind of kink buried in the memories of Taemin with a revolver in hand. 

“You look good with a gun in your hands.” Jongin had admitted, his voice low, and his gaze fixed on Taemin’s deceptively pretty eyes.

Jongin hadn't expected the confession to light up Taemin's features with barely concealed surprise, but the way the look was followed by a pleased little grin, was exactly the man he knew. Taemin had been shameless in the way he dropped a hand all too quickly to Jongin’s crotch, cupping him, making Jongin jerk back a bit in surprise.

“You’re half hard.” Taemin sounded just as pleased as he looked, but Jongin wasn’t given the chance to reply, to react to Taemin’s bluntness. The crunch of tires on gravel from just beyond where they stood, had stolen both of their attention. The sound announced Jonghyun and Luhan's arrival, dispelling the moment. Taemin had pulled away to greet them, but not before shooting Jongin a wicked look, sending a shot of sensation down Jongin's spine. He knew Taemin well enough to understand what that look meant, it was a promise; this wasn't over.

A promise he seems currently intent on delivering on, if the gun pointed in Jongin’s direction, and the hungry look in Taemin’s eyes was anything to go on. Taemin is wearing that same self satisfied smirk Jongin had seen him sporting that night, perfectly aware of the effect he's having on Jongin. And Taemin is right to be smug, Jongin’s dick is definitely responding to the situation at hand. The cold blooded look on Taemin's face, coupled with Taemin's prized revolver gripped comfortably in his hand, is having a profound effect. Jongin doesn’t grace Taemin's question of the current state of his cock with a reply, Jongin’s tongue flitting out to wet dry lips, as he anticipates Taemin's next move.

“Jongin.” 

Jongin knows that tone, is all too familiar with the hard command in Taemin's voice, and knows Taemin expects a reply. So he gives a short nod, a brief jerk of his head, his eyes still fixed on the blond’s every move.

“Yeah. Yeah I am.”

Taemin closes the short distance between them, taking slow, calculated steps, until he is crowding up against Jongin where he stands in the doorframe of their bedroom. Taemin is close enough that Jongin can smell the body wash still clinging to his skin, adding a distinct musk to his usual scent. The heat that Taemin’s body is radiating, leads Jongin to think that Taemin is humming with just as much excitement about the situation he’s created, as Jongin is himself. 

There's a distinct jump to Jongin’s pulse as the cool steel of the gun muzzle is pressed to the underside of his chin, the pressure of it bringing a slight discomfort. Taemin uses the weapon to tilt Jongin’s head back, the height difference between them emphasized, Jongin having to break eye contact as his gaze is forced up, and away from Taemin. Jongin feels as much as he hears the darkly amused chuckle that rumbles through the blond, the gun twisting ever so slightly, just to make Jongin feel the press of it.

“You’re so fucking bad.” Taemin says, his voice a razor lined purr, familiar and inviting, but dangerous. It's a line Jongin uses all too often on Taemin, words of endearment and praise, best when placed with a low heady whisper against Taemin's skin. They make Jongin’s heart flutter in a tune of affection, that is a stark contradiction to the rest of the emotions keeping his nerves alight.

The softest of gasps escapes Jongin, as the hot wet press of Taemin’s open mouth is suddenly felt along the length of his neck. Jongin's eyes fall shut as his stomach lurches with arousal, the drag of Taemin’s tongue up along the side of his neck leaving a hot, wet trail over the soft skin, right up to his jaw, pulling the best kind of tension up Jongin’s spine. 

“What’s your colour?” Taemin lips brush over the post sleep scruff dusting Jongin’s jaw, his words a near murmur, only picked up because of how close he is to Jongin's ear.

“Green.” It takes Jongin a moment to put his words together, and even when he speaks the word out loud, Jongin’s voice sounds thick to his own ears. It’s the first time Taemin himself has brought their safe words up, since Jongin made them establish them months ago. The implication as to the control Taemin was taking, where he was about to lead them, has Jongin’s head reeling.

“Green?” Taemin affirms, his voice quiet, almost as if he doesn’t want to disturb the atmosphere, the tension that had built up between them. 

Jongin nods his head yes in reply, but is met with the same drop of his name as before, in that tone that told him Taemin expected an answer, a vocal one.

“Yes." Jongin’s own voice is a near murmur, his hands curling at his sides, as his gaze sits steady on the crackle of their ceiling. “Green.” He swallows hard, letting the weight of the reply linger a moment between them, before adding on a sure, and steady: “I trust you.” 

It’s the barrel under his chin, keeping his face tilled skywards, that has Jongin missing the softening of Taemin’s expression at Jongin's statement, at the sureness, and ease of Jongin's trust in him. It flits away a moment later, Taemin pulling forth that calloused nature, a much more common side of Taemin, the exact one he was currently playing off of.

“On your knees.”

It’s a command, and not one that gives Jongin any room to argue, which brings Jongin a thrill all of it’s own. He’s already sinking to the floor when Taemin removes the gun from under his chin, allowing Jongin the needed room to do as told. A wicked bit of satisfaction flashes over Taemin’s features, and Jongin can only imagine the sight he must be: On his knees, skin already flushing with excitement, his dark brown eyes staying fixed to the blond standing by above him.  
  
Taemin’s fingers take their time opening the front of his own jeans, fingers working the brass button through it’s hole, zipper coming next, as he pushes them open. Taemin's hand slips past his waistband, watching the way Jongin seems transfixed on each movement Taemin makes. Jongin’s lips part slightly, tongue dipping out to wet them, as Taemin pulls the length of his dick from the confines of his worn jeans. It’s with a cocky little look that he takes the time to stroke himself, palm moving leisurely as he brings himself to full hardness. 

Taemin doesn’t even need to speak the words, Jongin’s mouth opening in a Pavlovian reaction. His tongue presses against the back of his bottom lip, gliding over it as Taemin uses the pad of his thumb, pressed to the base of his cock, to guide the very tip to the pink wetness of Jongin’s tongue. Jongin's eyelids droop as the slit of Taemin’s dick drags over the tip of his tongue, the distinct taste of pre-cum spreading over his palat. It’s a taunt though, Taemin always the worst kind of tease when presented with the opportunity to be. Jongin tries to chase after his dick none the less, his tongue heavy with longing, craving the feeling of Taemin’s cock stretching his jaw, sitting heady between his lips.

The revolver is back then, barrel pressed against Jongin’s forehead, making Jongin’s heart jump harshly in his chest, the slightest of shivers rippling through him as adrenaline surges through his system. It only takes two more slow drags of Taemin's cock over Jongin’s waiting mouth, before Jongin makes the quietest of whines, protesting the tease. Taemin hums pressing the underside of his dick to Jongin’s tongue, Jongin’s lips wrapping around Taemin’s cock, sucking as soon as they close tight around his girth. His eyes lift to Taemin’s face, the focused pull of Taemin's eyebrows furrowing his forehead, bringing a pleased heat to Jongin’s gut.  
  
“You want it that bad?” Jongin only hums in acknowledgement of the question, tongue tensing as he curls it in a drag down the thick vein on the underside of Taemin’s cock. A puff of breath leaves Taemin at the feeling, letting the hand holding the revolver fall aside for a moment, in favour of giving Jongin his reign of movement back. 

Jongin is quick in using the control given to him, relaxing his jaw just that bit more, as he sinks his mouth forwards in one smooth movement. His eyes close, squeezing shut as he deep throats Taemin’s cock right away. It’s no secret between them the way Jongin enjoys the fill of a cock in his mouth. He's more than content to spend his time between Taemin’s legs, no matter what Taemin is up to. Lewd, and shameless as he took his time getting Taemin off, it was more about Jongin sating his own craving than anything else. 

The most pleased of groans vibrates its way up from Jongin’s vocal box to stimulate Taemin, just as Jongin drags his mouth back once more. Thick lips suckle a moment at the tip, tongue flicking back and forth over the slit, indulging himself with the salted taste of Taemin’s pre-cum, before Jongin slides forwards once again. He repeats the action, finding himself a slow, fluid pace, the wetness of his own spit leaking out of the corners of his mouth, dampening his chin with each slide of his lips along Taemin’s dick.

Jongin presses a palm to the hard length of his own cock, cupping himself through the fabric of his sweatpants. He grinds down against the hard ache of his dick only once, before the distinct sound of the hammer of the revolver can be heard, cocked, and loaded.  
  
“Hands behind your back.” 

It’s a direct order punctuated by the press of the muzzle to his head. Jongin does as he’s told without second thought, crossing his arms behind his back, holding onto his forearms to keep from touching himself. It’s only a moment later that he looks up at Taemin, taking in the sight of the man standing over top of him with his lips slightly parted, and eyelids heavy, as he watches the slow slide of his dick in, and out of Jongin’s mouth.  
  
“Cockslut.”  
  
Taemin says it like fact, the implications of the slur flushing Jongin’s body with an unexpected wash of arousal. Before Jongin can process what’s happening, the hand still holding the revolver moves, the gun coming to rest on the top of Jongin’s head, as short fingers take hold of his hair, gripping it around the ivory handle. 

A most satisfied groan is ripped from deep in Jongin’s chest as Taemin grips his hair firmly, holding him in place, as his hips roll forwards, keeping Jongin at his mercy. Taemin's hips move in slow, fluid strokes, the hand Taemin has anchoring the base of his cock falls away as he fucks into Jongin’s mouth. Jongin’s eyes water, his cock twitching at the push of Taemin’s dick past his lips. He can feel his throat tighten around the head as it hits the back of his throat, fighting the gag reflex it triggers.

Jongin’s breathing is rough, restricted, and he curls his fingers around his forearms, as Taemin makes use of his mouth. The slick wet sound of each thrust accompanies the steady rise, and fall of Jongin’s chest, breathing heavy through his nose with his mouth stuffed full. Jongin’s head is already swimming with the lack of oxygen, body flushing hot with pure lust, as Taemin’s grip tightens, pulling him forwards on his dick, until Jongin’s nose brushes against his pelvis, near pressed against the rough stubble of hair found there.  
  
Jongin’s nails dig crescents into his own skin as Taemin holds him down, letting the muscles of Jongin’s throat flutter around his cock, as Jongin fights against his natural instinct to pull back. He whines loudly, the sound muffled as his head spins, growing light just before Taemin jerks Jongin back, pulling him off of his cock. The gasp of air that Jongin takes in sounds loudly in the hallway as Taemin lets go of him, lightheadedness causing Jongin to fall off balance, barely catching himself with an outstretched arm, as his chest heaves, sucking in oxygen. The rush makes his whole frame feel light, near addicting despite the burn of his lungs, with the way it mingles with Jongin’s arousal, the most heavy kind of heat tingling his body from top to bottom. Brown eyes turn up to Taemin, Jongin’s cock sensitive, and leaking in his pants, his chin slick with his own spit in a manner most debauched, his lips shining, and swollen, cheeks flushed as he stares up at his boyfriend.  
  
“ _Fuck._ ”  
  
The cuss slips heavy from Taemin’s lips, his craving for the sight he’s made of Jongin evident in the drop of the word. Taemin reaches out his free hand to tangle in the soft strands of Jongin’s hair, the pull on his scalp sending a shock of sensation straight down the back of Jongin’s neck, to sit heavy in his gut. 

Thick thighs, and strong calves are put to use as Taemin pulls Jongin back up to his feet, letting go as soon as Jongin is standing stable once again. His hand slides to press against Jongin’s nape, pulling him in to push his lips hard into Jongin’s, Taemin's lips parting to pull Jongin’s swollen bottom lip into his mouth, sucking hard on it, and pressing his teeth firm into the skin just underneath the full of Jongin's lip, pulling the most wanton of moans from deep in Jongin’s chest.  
  
Taemin is near panting himself when he pulls back from the kiss, his eyes half lidded as his mouth hovers over Jongin’s, the heat radiating off of Taemin’s frame pressing against Jongin’s skin, heart pounding behind his ribs. The slow drag of the barrel of the revolver is cool against the heated skin of Jongin’s bare chest, the contrast of sensations prickling over his body. Taemin pauses, letting the gun come to a rest between their bodies, the muzzle pressed to the slight dip between Jongin’s pecs. Taemin’s words are a near murmur when he speaks, lips brushing over Jongin’s own with each spoken word.  
  
“Are you good?” Jongin gives a small nod, his fingers curling and uncurling where his arms hang heavy at his sides. “Colour?” 

“Green.” Jongin's reply is short and comes quickly in response to Taemin’s question, as he checks in with Jongin. 

“Alright.” Taemin’s voice is nearly a drawl as he takes a step back, and out of Jongin’s immediate space, pressing the barrel of the gun just a bit more firmly to Jongin’s chest. Taemin lets his eyes drag over the length of Jongin’s frame, appreciating the slight glow to his skin, with the light sheen of sweat that has broken out over the larger man.  
  
“Turn around.” Taemin’s voice is that stone cold once more, his face schooled back into the emotionless state it had been at the start of this. It sends Jongin’s instinct into overdrive, the winding rush of adrenaline making his cock ache, as his pulse picks up once more. He gives a short nod before stepping back just slightly, eyes flitting only a moment to the gun in Taemin’s hand.  
  
Before Taemin knows what's hit him Jongin’s hand is pressed to his own, swiftly pressing his other hand to Taemin’s forearm. It happens too fast for him to process and suddenly Taemin finds himself shoved face first into the hallway wall. The strong grip on his arm keeps it twisted tight behind his back, the slightest bit of pressure making his fingers go lax allowing Jongin to pull the revolver from his palm. 

Jongin presses the full weight of himself into Taemin’s back, his large hand curled around Taemin’s wrist, keeping it flush against Taemin’s lower back, using his larger, and more muscular body to keep Taemin pinned to the wall. Jongin lets out a soft hum of approval as he grips the gun, pressing it hard to Taemin’s lower back.

It’s more than caught Taemin off guard, the fact that Taemin always seemed to assume Jongin didn’t know his way around a handgun, was something Jongin had been counting on. He keeps Taemin flush against the wall, letting the weight of the sudden change in the situation sink in. He swears he can watch the realization and resulting arousal work its way through Taemin’s body, and Jongin would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy every prolonged second of it.  
  
Thick lips press themselves to the sensitive skin behind Taemin’s ear, lips parting, tongue touching Taemin’s, skin leaving a languid open mouth kiss, the sheer wet heat of Jongin’s mouth the same silken feeling that had been wrapped all too well around his cock, only moments earlier pulling a shiver straight up Taemin’s spine from deep in his core. Then the revolver is in play again. Jongin drags the cool barrel down the curve of Taemin’s spine, over the striped pattern of his cotton shirt, to press firm between the jut of his shoulder blades. Another kiss, just a quick drop of one this time, in the same place as the first, before Jongin speaks. His voice is low and authoritative, straightforward in his statements when he lets them fall on Taemin’s ears.  
  
“Shirt. Off.”  
  
His grip on Taemin’s arm loosens, stepping back just enough to give Taemin room to pull the shirt up and over his head, fabric dropping wayside to the dark hardwood floor. It barely has time to settle before Jongin is crowding Taemin back up against the wall, a low cuss leaving Taemin with the action. The hand not returning the cool press of the revolver to Taemin’s skin splays low, just above the jeans hung off of slim hips. Jongin’s eyes fall, indulging himself with the firm press of his palm dragging up along the curve of Taemin’s spine, slow in its ascent, the heat of Taemin’s skin seeping into Jongin’s own all too worked up body. Long fingers curl themselves around the back of Taemin’s neck, palm against his nape, as Jongin pushes him flush to the wall.  
  
Taemin’s body is shaking, excitement building quickly, and bringing the slightest of shivering to his frame in a reaction that Jongin has come to strive for, knowing Taemin’s body all too well. Taemin’s eyes have fallen shut, cheek pressed against the wall as he waits, more compliant than Jongin has ever seen him be in their day to day life. It’s nothing short of invigorating. It’s got tension curled tight and heavy in Jongin’s gut, cock heavy between his legs, as he burns the sight of Taemin’s current submission into his mind.  
  
“Pants.”  
  
He doesn’t need to say it twice, Taemin’s fingers working quickly, shoving the denim down his hips and off long legs, kicking them aside without a second thought. It’s a burst of excitement that hits Jongin then, sudden in its drop in his chest, and he can feel the heat of it roll fast through the rest of his body.  
  
“Spread for me. Show me.” The puff of a breath Taemin lets out at the low spoken command, is a sweet accompaniment to the pink flush of arousal spread over Taemin’s face, and down his neck. He pushes forwards against the wall, letting his chest slip down just slightly, as his stance moves back, long legs spreading just extra bit more needed to lift his hips off the wall, and curve his spine in the most enticing of manners. Jongin lets the gun fall aside, his grip on the back of Taemin’s neck never relenting, keeping him pressed face first into the wall as Taemin moves. His eyes watch with ardent attention as Taemin does just what he’d asked, hand moving to each of his ass cheeks, pressing into supple flesh as he pulls, exposing himself to Jongin’s gaze.  
  
“ _Shit_ .” The cuss slips from Jongin without intent, greedily drinking in the low curve of Taemin’s back, leading him as if in trail to where Taemin had pulled himself open, exposing the tight pucker of his hole to Jongin. His tongue flits out to wet lips he hadn’t even noticed had gone dry, and Jongin takes no shame in letting Taemin stand like that, lingering in the feeling of being so bare, and needy under Jongin’s watch and whim.  
  
Jongin’s lip quirks, pulling up at the side in a play of smugness when Taemin’s lids open, his face shifting against the wall to turn dark eyes back at his boyfriend. It’s a look that Jongin holds, letting the spit that had collected in his mouth, with the rush of pure need that had seeped through, him drip from his lips. It’s a sheen as it hits just below Taemin’s tailbone, running quickly over fair skin, Taemin’s body reacting almost instantly as it hits his hole, the most undignified of noises choking out of Taemin.  
  
“Touch yourself.” Jongin’s voice is starting to waver, in no better state than Taemin himself. Taemin’s eyes near close,hooded with need, his head leaning just that bit more into the wall. Jongin’s bottom lip finds its way between his teeth as Taemin’s hand moves, watching a he presses the heel of his palm to his tailbone, small fingers fanning out ever so slightly, as his middle finger drags over his hole, collecting Jongin’s spit in a slow swipe that pulls a sudden full body shudder from him. Taemin wastes no time then, the quietest of whimpers slipping from him as he sinks two knuckles deep. His rim tightens only a moment before he’s relaxing into the familiar feeling, starting a slow languid slide of his finger in and nearly out of his hole.  
  
The deepest of pleased hums rumbles Jongin’s chest at the sight, feeling the pull of his balls between his legs tightening as his cock aches, watching with unrestrained lust as Taemin works himself open.  
  
“Fuck, you look so good like this.” Taemin’s lips pull into a pleased bit of a smile as the compliment rolls over him, hips rocking just the ever so slightest back against his hand. Jongin’s palm smooths down from it’s grip at Taemin’s nape, up through the jut of his shoulder blades, and over the bumps of Taemin’s spine. Without warning Jongin drops to his knees, palm resting firm on Taemin’s lower back as his head dips in. The tip of Jongin’s tongue is hot, wet, and just a little bit wicked in the way it drags over the tight wrap of Taemin’s rim around his finger, instantly stuttering Taemin’s movements. 

Taemin jerks forwards towards the wall in surprise before melting back against Jongin’s mouth, welcoming the hot, slick drag of his tongue with the most wanton of noises. Jongin indulges him, teasing slowly at Taemin’s rim with the tip of his tongue, as Taemin resumes the languid pump of his finger in and out. It lasts not nearly long enough before Jongin feels his resolve starting to crumble, the tension, and pure need for Taemin that’s been building in Jongin, pushing at the very control he’d managed to snatch away from his boy.  
  
“Bed. _Now._ ” Jongin’s voice is coarse, leaving no room for debate as he sits back on his heels, watching as Taemin struggles for a moment to pull himself together enough to push away from the wall. It speaks volumes for just how well Taemin knows Jongin, that he doesn’t give more than a glance back to see if Jongin is following, making a straight dart for the bedroom. Jongin isn’t far behind though, taking a moment or two to linger, just to make Taemin wait before lifting himself up and off of the floor, following behind him.  
  
The sight that greets Jongin when he finally breaches the threshold between the hall, and their room is enough to crumble any bit of self-restraint Jongin may have had left. Taemin is face down in the muss of slept in sheets, his blond hair fanned out, and a mess around his head where it’s pressed into the dark linens. Taemin’s already three fingers deep, eagerly pressing his body’s limits, the shine of lube apparent in the slide of his small digits, as he fucks himself open. His legs are spread, and ass in the air, his face flushed hot with need where his gaze lingers on the doorway to the room.  
  
Jongin’s sweatpants quickly hit the floor, tossing the revolver onto the bed next to Taemin, he takes no time in crossing the room to Taemin. The mattress dips as Jongin climbs onto it, pulling a needy whine from Taemin as Jongin settles behind him. Long fingers wrap around Taemin’s wrist, pulling his hand away and ignoring the high whine of protest it gets him. The bottle of lube isn’t hard to find, white against the dark sheets, and he’s a little bit shameless with the amount he squeezes out of it, watching as Taemin’s hole clenches, trying to grip something that wasn’t there any more, and effectively sucking in some of the gel, before oozing it right back out out again. 

Jongin wastes no time in replacing Taemin’s fingers with three of his own, a curse dropping from him at the feeling of the tight heat of Taemin’s ass clenching around them. Jongin is incessant in the pace he takes up, starting hard, and relentless, the slick wet sound of his fingers filling the room as he fucks Taemin with them, mingling with the loud, and broken sounds pouring from Taemin in a chorus. The muscles of Jongin’s arm tightens with the sheer force of the action, a sheen of sweat breaking out over the both of them. Taemin’s legs slip open just a bit further as his fingers curl white knuckled into the sheets.  
  
Then Jongin stops all at once, just as quickly as he started. The sob Taemin lets out at the loss of friction is broken and debauched, his back arching, and his hole fluttering agape, trying desperately to pull back what it’d lost. Jongin’s done playing though, needing this as badly as Taemin does, wrapping his hand already slick with lube around his own leaking cock, stroking only a few quick times before he’s pressing up against Taemin’s thighs. Jongin’s brow pulls tight, teeth finding his abused bottom lip, sinking in deep as he guides his cock to Taemin’s ass. He lets the head catch a few times on the stretched ring of Taemin’s hole, just to hear Taemin’s needy little whines as he pushes back against the slick slide of Jongin’s cock over his rim. Finally Jongin leans forwards over Taemin’s smaller frame, the muscles of his back aflutter with tension, as he lets just the curved head of his cock slip inside of Taemin, restraining himself just a moment more.  
  
“ _Cock. Slut._ ” It’s the last thing Jongin says, thick and pointed, turning Taemin’s very own words back against him before skilled hips are snapping forwards, cock sinking into the sinful heat of Taemin’s ass. Jongin plants his hands on either side of him, Taemin clawing at the sheets as he takes every bit Jongin will give him in full stride. Broken pleas spill forth from Taemin, punctuating the desperate chorus of Jongin’s name, Jongin letting the weight of his body, and the strength of his thrusts press Taemin down into the bed. 

Ecstasy comes on fast, building like a tidal wave inside of Jongin, washing in a deep full bodied throb of arousal pulling so, so tight inside of him as he teeters along the edge of bliss. Jongin is relentless in the sweet stroke of his cock against Taemin’s walls, chasing after both of their pleasure, and it’s with no warning at all that the man under him tenses up, Taemin’s jaw dropping in most indelicate of manners, expression near pained as his orgasm slams into him hard. It shakes his frame in quick full bodied jerks against Jongin’s own, the broken whimper of Jongin’s name, and the tight, heated flutter of Taemin’s ass around Jongin’s cock, all Jongin needs to shove him over the edge. Jongin’s own orgasm hits him hard, tension snapping in his frame, and stuttering the rhythm of his thrusts.

Jongin’s presses as deep as he can into Taemin, his forehead dropping to rest against the slick skin of Taemin’s back as he grinds against his ass, milking his cum out deep inside of Taemin, as he rides out the blissful lightheaded high of his orgasm. Slowly Jongin sinks down against Taemin’s panting frame, burying his face in the dip of the blond’s shoulder, as he takes a shaky moment to just recover from the sheer rush of their fuck.  
  
“ _Holy shit,_ Jongin.” Taemin’s voice is coarse, and more than a little bit lax, the statement pulling an amused chuckle from Jongin. 

Jongin grimaces as he shifts, cock over sensitive as it slips out of Taemin’s hole. Sinking into the mattress, Jongin settles next to Taemin, lifting his arm to allow the shift of Taemin’s body closer to his own, among the tangle of sheets. Taemin’s eyelids are heavy as his face turns open, and relaxed towards Jongin’s, a euphoric kind of pleasure painted on his features. Jongin’s hand wanders down over the sweat damp curve of Taemin’s back, an entirely lazy, and self-satisfied look pulling at Jongin’s lips, as his finger slips between Taemin’s ass cheeks. He dips a finger gently but without shame past Taemin’s abused rim, the action entirely self indulgent, stroking tenderly inside of his boy before adding a second, spreading them carefully just to feel the slow trickle of his jizz as it starts to leak out of Taemin. It pulls the most beautiful, and vulnerable of needy sounds from Taemin, the blond nuzzling his way under the crook of Jongin’s chin, near sinking into his boyfriend’s larger frame.  
  
Once satisfied with the sloppy and used state of his boy Jongin relents, his fingers slipping slowly out from inside of Taemin. He wraps his arms around Taemin as he drops an easy kiss to the top of his head, the most contented of hums a near purr inside of Jongin’s chest.  
  
“Morning babe.” Taemin’s words are an amused mumble and Jongin can’t help but laugh openly at that, feeling Taemin’s own grin against his skin. Leave it to his boy to make staring down the barrel of a gun a better wake up call than any breakfast in bed.


	2. Get Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a short bonus drabble

It catches Jongin off guard: the cold press of metal between his shoulder blades, as he stands there in the kitchen. It’s nearly noon, but that's still too early in the morning for either his, or Taemin’s usual sleep schedule. It's not unwelcome though, and Jongin’s body is instantly alight, even through the lingering haze of sleep. The metal is pressed just a little harder against his skin, and his body is heating up quickly, a stark contrast to the cool air of the still open refrigerator he's standing in front of.

Taemin makes a sound from behind him, undignified, and insistent, and it’s got Jongin turning around to face the smaller man. Fantasies of the last time Taemin had pulled a gun on him quickly crash around Jongin as he’s greeted with the sight of his still sleepy boy. Taemin’s blond hair is a fluff of a mess on his head and swimming in Jongin’s two sizes too large for Taemin jersey, half eaten bowl of cereal in hand.

The spoon that had been pressed between his shoulder’s only moments prior thwacks gently on Jongin’s bare chest, Taemin pushing his only partially filled bowl of lucky charms at Jongin. Jongin can’t do anything but sigh heavily, rolling his eyes as he makes out what he can only assume is ‘more milk’, from the words that Taemin grumbles out around a mouth full of cereal.

The taller complies reaching for the carton to refill his boy’s bowl, watching with disgruntled affection as Taemin beams up at him happily before scuttling away, back to his preferred place on Jongin’s couch.

At 11am what more had Jongin  _ really _ expected?

**Author's Note:**

> [originally written for the Pretty Boy fic fest of 2016 but has since been re-written, re-edited and re-uploaded]


End file.
